A Last Year on Earth
by Saran VD
Summary: A series of vignettes describing the endings of the lives of each of the major characters. Rated because, well, death is sad...
1. 1

**A/N: So, as many of my readers already know, this and **_**Not the Last**_** are the only RENT fics I'm continuing to write (and NTL is going to have a major rewrite in the near future). This means that all other in-progress RENT fics are up for adoption. After ACTUALLY REVIEWING this story, if you want to adopt, let me know! ******

**As for this fic, I'm mostly writing it as a character study. RENT is my school's musical next year. Be jealous.**

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic…**

**Saran VD**

A Last Year on Earth

_In inches, in miles,_

_In laughter, in strife_

She had never suspected that things would turn out so perfect.

She had found love, real love, for the first time in her life. It was amazing. Amazing how one single night had changed everything so dramatically for her.

It was early October, and things were going swimmingly in her personal life. She had the most wonderful man in her life that she could ever have hoped to find, and good friends to go with it. As expected, Mimi was there, but she had new friends, people she'd never anticipated.

There was Roger, Mimi-chica's _novio_, a nice guy when he wasn't moping alone in the loft.

And there was Mark, Roger's roommate, someone that she would never have met without having Collins in her life. But there he was: strangely observant, a bit detached, and her second-best friend.

Maureen was something else entirely. She was wild, unpredictable, and lots of fun. Quite the opposite of her girlfriend, Joanne, who was level-headed and patient. She loved them both for very different reasons.

And, of course, she had Collins. Her Collins. Tom Collins. She had picked him up and dusted him off when he'd needed it most, and it was him that made things so wonderful for her. She had never been in a relationship like this before; she couldn't get enough of him, couldn't keep herself away from him for too long before feeling physically sick. It was fantastic.

It was a cruel joke that she would be forced to leave now that everything was so perfect.

It started two weeks before Halloween. She was a little more congested, a little more feverish, than she usually was. Naturally, this was not enough to stop her. She simply took her AZT as usual, and she and Collins took the train over to the loft. She had plans, big plans, for the upcoming holiday. All that was left was persuading everyone else that she was right. She didn't expect it to be difficult; they'd all learned that her ideas were worth listening to.

It was noon by the time they got to the loft, and they had still beaten Maureen and Joanne.

"Mimi-chica!" she cried, greeting her very-best-friend with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. They began to jabber away in Spanish as Collins greeted the rest of them. It wasn't until Collins had slipped his arms around her waist and practically dragged her away from Mimi that she said her hellos to everyone else.

Of course, none of them minded. Ever since Mimi had been spending so much time with Roger, she hadn't been able to see her friend as much as she would've liked.

"So, Angel," said Mimi once everyone was settled down in a chair or a lap. "What were you so eager to tell us?"

"Wait for Maureen and Joanne," she replied tantalizingly.

"We'll be here all night," Mark muttered under his breath.

She shot a glare in his direction, but Collins just laughed. "He knows Mo well," he said, merriment sparkling in his eyes. "She won't even be awake for another three hours."

Everyone laughed that time, until the door swung open.

"I don't see what's so funny," said a new voice, and everyone turned to the source.

"Oh, hey, Maureen," said Mark, a bit of his confidence dissipating at the sight of his ex-girlfriend.

"Seriously," she said, waltzing into the loft and collapsing onto the couch between Mark and Roger, "I want to know what I missed."

"Honeybear, I'm sure we haven't missed much." Joanne said, bringing a folding chair from where it had been against the wall. She placed it beside Collins's chair and smiled at the group.

"No, you haven't," said Mimi, a bit of bitterness in her voice. "Angel's been refusing to tell us anything until you got here."

Joanne turned to her now. "Well, Angel?"

Angel took a deep breath. "Well, Halloween is coming up…"

"Oh boy," said Mimi quietly under her breath.

Angel glared at Mimi, coughed a bit, and continued. "And we need to do something fabulous. I was thinking… I'm sure we can find some stuff. We could make costumes that were somehow meaningful to us. Maureen could be a cow…"

Maureen pouted angrily, but everyone else laughed. Roger mooed pointedly in her direction.

"… or something like that. You know. Kind of, to represent our year." Angel already had her costume planned. She had secretly been swiping things from the loft at each visit for the past month. She had acquired a pair of Maureen's sunglasses, a lipstick out of Joanne's purse (never used, by the looks of it), one of Mimi's skirts, and (gasps) Mark's scarf. Now all she needed was something from Roger. She scanned the room quickly and quietly as the other's thought aloud of what they would do. A pair of striped grey socks caught her eye. Most definitely Roger's judging by the size of them. "I'll be right back," she said, grabbing her purse and heading in the direction of the bathroom. On her way, she grabbed the socks off of the floor and put them in her purse.

Once Angel arrived in the bathroom, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her, and she threw up into the toilet. Light-headed and gagging, she flushed the toilet and rinsed out her mouth. She managed to stumble back into the room without it looking to obvious that she had been sick in the first place. She was almost certain that it was nothing to worry about, and she didn't want anyone to be concerned.

She took her seat on Collins's lap again, smiling kindly at them.

"Maureen's planning the most outrageous costume I've ever heard of in my life," Collins whispered in her ear.

"And what's that?" she whispered back, her voice coming out shakier than she'd hoped it would.

"She wants to be the moon."

"The moon?" Angel's exclamation of surprise was louder than she'd thought, and Maureen's chatter subsided at the sound of it.

"Yes," said Maureen. "And it's going to be amazing. Glow in the dark, with lights on it, and all the craters. Maybe I'll figure out a way to have a cow jumping over it…"

"Elsie?" Angel teased.

"Of course!" said Maureen gleefully.

Everyone laughed, and the conversation moved on to other topics. Angel participated, as usual, smiling and laughing with the rest. She'd never been so happy.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Of course, all good things come to an end. Within a week, Angel's nothing-to-worry-about sickness had blossomed into a full-blown stomach flu, complete with a fever that had her sweating buckets. Still wanting to keep people from worrying, she went about life as usual. It was only as she and Collins were coming home from a Life Support meeting that he noticed that something was wrong.

Angel was shivering, as though she were cold. Immediately concerned, Collins wrapped his arms around her, only to be surprised that she was so warm. Too warm, he noticed, and they got off the train near the hospital instead.

She was admitted at once, hooked up to IVs and given AZT as they pushed her stretcher down the halls to her room.

The room was lonely. It was small and bland, and empty. Empty of sound, but mostly empty of company.

It had been nearly a year since Angel had felt the cold sting of loneliness, and it ached more than she remembered.

Fortunately, it didn't last long, for soon everyone was there: Roger, Mark, Maureen, Joanne, Mimi, and Collins. They all carried something. Maureen and Joanne each held a teddy bear, Mark had a bouquet of balloons. Roger had smuggled in a box of Chips Ahoy cookies. Mimi pulled a bottle of blue nail polish out of her purse with an impish grin. Collins was the only one without any sort of material object, but Angel didn't mind in the slightest. His hand on hers was plenty.

It went on like this for several days, and Angel weakened more and more with each passing day. Finally, four days before Halloween, Angel managed to croak out, "Collins?"

He and Mimi were the only two people in the room. "Yes?" he replied automatically.

Angel placed her hand on his. It shook as she moved it. The hot and clammy skin was several shades paler than usual, almost chalky in appearance, and it looked even lighter next to Collins's dark hand. "There's a garbage bag in the back of my closet…"

"Oh no," said Mimi, "you didn't stash a body there, did you?" She was teasing, but her worry over Angel masked the light-hearted attitude of the joke.

Angel laughed a bit, which turned quickly into a cough. "There's some things in there that you all may want back." Her eyelids felt like lead, and she let them fall closed. She drifted into the dark, painless black of sleep.

She awoke one last time that morning. It was too early for visiting hours, so she was once again alone. A nurse walked in, checked her temperature and blood pressure, frowned sadly, and moved on.

Angel couldn't find the strength to remain awake. Her eyes refused to stay open; she felt lost in her own body as she tried to fight them.

However, Angel was nothing if not a fighter. She managed to battle her weakness until everyone reappeared at her bedside at 9 AM sharp. Only then did she find it safe to shut her eyes. She had Collins's hand clasped tightly in her own, and she could feel Mimi's hand stroking her hair. Even without her eyes open, she knew that everyone else was nearby.

Angel's eyes never opened again. Her room was cleared at 10:04 AM, for she had been declared dead.

_Angel Dumont Schunard: April 5, 1967-October 29, 1990_


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**A/N:Thanks to all my readers, and special thanks to those that review! You guys make my day. And on we go… don't forget to review!**

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic…**

**Saran VD**

A Last Year On Earth

_In contracts, dollars_

_In funerals, in births_

It was a losing battle, and she knew it. She was flirting with death, dancing on the edge of a sheer cliff that was very likely going to crumble beneath her.

That did nothing to stop her, naturally. The Unstoppable Mimi Marquez was still living up to Angel's legacy: No day but today. She loved Roger passionately, and nothing anyone did could change that. They moved in together around New Years that year, and shortly after that came something that no one expected.

_Positive_. It _couldn't_ be positive. And yet, there it was. A tiny pink stick telling her, "Oh yes it could be."

Mimi was barely twenty years old. She wasn't of legal _drinking_ age, let alone old enough to have to deal with this. Flirting with death didn't make it any better. She wanted to trash the stupid little stick, liar that it was, and forget about the whole incident. And that was exactly what she did.

Her plan worked for about a month, until she began vomiting almost everything that she ate. Roger watched her with worry, insisting that she see a doctor.

"We don't have the money for that," she replied, internally cursing the little pink stick to all the fire of Hades. "I'll be fine." Another wave of nausea, and she had to dash to the bathroom again.

Roger followed her, holding her long dark curls out of the way as she heaved up her meager breakfast. "I can't lose you," he whispered, so softly that Mimi could barely hear it.

A wave of guilt washed over her, and she seriously considered getting checked out as he'd requested. However, her instincts told her not to. It wasn't something they could even _think_ about affording, let alone actually being able to do it. "I'll be fine," she assured him as she stood up. Her brown eyes met his for a moment, and she gave him a little half smile before gliding out of the room.

That night was her last at the Catscratch Club. She walked out of there proudly, with her head held high, swearing that she would never return.

So began a downward slope into even worse economic distress than she was used to. Fortunately, it wasn't much longer before she was able to keep her food down. Unfortunately, it was now becoming obvious that she had something to hide.

Mimi had taken to wearing looser fitting clothing than usual. This didn't go without notice, of course.

"Mimi, why have you quit showing us how sexy you are?" asked Maureen conversationally over dinner at the Life one night.

Mimi blushed and said, "Because it's the middle of winter and I don't want to freeze to death."

"Never stopped you before," Maureen grumbled.

Joanne slapped her girlfriend in a way that was _almost_ playful.

Mimi just laughed and went back to eating. She took a sip of her water, glaring over her glass at Roger as he swigged a bottle of beer. Lucky for her, he didn't notice.

Her ruse continued for another couple of months. At this point, she was stuck wearing sweat pants that were a size too big and extra large t-shirts, just to be able to keep her secret. It had been seven months since the stupid pink stick had started the whole mess, and the baby was getting restless.

She had fallen in love with the child already, and was convinced it was a rascally little boy. As long as no one was around to hear her, she spoke aloud to him, calling him Angelo. She voiced her love for him, and that he was brightening her normally dark life. However, she also voiced her worries. She worried that Roger would be angry when he found out; she worried that she would make her baby sick, either because of her drug habit- which she'd managed to get over after Angel's death- or because of her virus. She worried that she wouldn't have enough money to take care of him. And, most of all, she worried that the government would take one look at her past, see her as an unfit parent, and yank her baby out of her arms. She told him all of this and more, praying to God that he wasn't able to hear her.

Her back was aching all the time now, and she stayed behind from her Life Support meeting one day because of it. When Roger got back, he was flanked by Maureen and Mark. All three of their faces were etched with worry.

A little more than eight months had passed since her near-death experience, and other than the problems caused by the little pink stick, she had been fit as a fiddle for all eight of those months. Even so, no one had forgotten it, and every little ache and pain of hers was a cause for worry.

"Mimi, are you sure you're feeling all right?" Maureen asked, sitting beside her friend on the couch.

"Fine," said Mimi lightly. "Never better."

"Roger says you've been gaining weight lately."

A flicker of fear crossed her face, and then nothing. "I'm hungry, and I haven't been dancing."

"You aren't eating enough to be putting on weight like _this_, Meems," Mark said to her, gesturing to the clothing she wore and how it didn't hang nearly as loose as it had before.

"I'm fine, okay? There's nothing wrong with my digestive system."

Roger's face was stricken with pain. "Mimi, please, go see a doctor. For me."

The look on his face, the worry in his eyes, were not something that Mimi could easily refuse. Still, she had to ask. "Roger, how the hell are we going to pay for this? You maybe can comission a song once a month, and I have no job whatsoever. We barely have money for food or rent, let alone to see a doctor." Her voice came out angrier than she'd planned, and she almost felt guilty.

"Joanne has already said she'll pay," said Maureen, wrapping her arm around Mimi's shoulder and giving her a squeeze. "You have nothing to worry about. We've made you an appointment for tomorrow at noon."

A beeper went off, and Mimi rose and awkwardly walked over to take her AZT. She swallowed the pill before turning back to Maureen with a smile. "Thank you, Maureen." She truly was thankful; this would hopefully ease some of her worry, if only by replacing it with new ones.

* * *

The next day, at noon sharp, Mimi and Joanne sat together in the doctor's office. A friendly nurse called Mimi's name, and she rose and walked back to be examined.

"So, when are you due?" asked the nurse with a smile.

Mimi blinked rapidly. "Um…" She counted in her head. "September."

The nurse's smile broadened. "You're carrying low. It must be a girl." She opened a door for Mimi and handed her a paper gown, instucting her to put it on. "Dr. Florence will be with you in a moment." She left and shut the door behind her.

"It's a boy," Mimi grumbled beneath her breath before doing as she was told. She was bately changed when a middle-aged man with a greying mustache and a balding head walked into the room.

"I'm Dr. Richard Florence," he said to her. "And I assume you are Maria Marquez?"

"Mimi," she corrected automatically, wincing at the sound of her full name.

He made a note. "So, Mimi, you are here for a general physical exam, yes?"

She nodded, and the interrogation began. Dr. Florence asked her about how she'd been feeling, if she'd been sleeping and eating well, if she'd been depressed. He asked her what medications she was on and she said AZT, his eyebrows raised but he said nothing. She answered the rest of the questions easily and honestly, surprised by how easy it was to talk to the doctor.

"Mimi, Rachel tells me that you're due to have a baby in September. How's the pregnancy been going?"

"Fine."

"Anything unusual?"

"No."

"Have you had the baby checked out?"

Mimi blushed. "No."

Dr. Florence looked concerned. "Why not?"

She heaved a sigh. "I can't afford it."

The doctor smiled a bit sadly. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll tell Rachel to make an appointment for you with Dr. Donaldson. Preferrably for later today, if that works for you."

"It does," said Mimi. She was unable to keep her astonishment out of her voice.

Dr. Florence laughed. "Don't worry. Dr. Donaldson is my baby sister. She owes me a few favors."

"Yes, but…" She tried to wrap her brain around her thoughts. "Why me?"

He smiled. "First of all, I can see that you want to see your baby."

"I'll get to _see_ him?!"

Another smile. "Also, because of your medical history, your child is at risk for birth defects. If you get examined, we may be able to detect them ahead of time and make accomidations that can prevent things from going wrong. You need to know what you're up against, Mimi."

Mimi nodded solemnly.

The rest of the appointment went on as normal, and Dr. Florence walked her out of the room.

The worry was plain on Joanne's face.

"She's fine," Dr. Florence assured. "The pregnancy seems to be going normally. We've made an appointment with the OBGYN for her at 2:00 today. That isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

Joanne just stared at Mimi, comprehension dawning on her face. "That's fine," she managed to say.

Mimi sheepishly walked over to Joanne.

"Everything's taken care of," said the nurse, who must've been Rachel. She was seated at the desk and waved cheerily to Mimi and Joanne as they left.

They walked over to Joanne's car without talking. Only when they'd gotten in and buckled their seatbelts, Mimi broke the silence. "Joanne, I-"

"How exactly were you going to explain a baby appearing out of nowhere? Or if you went into labor around us?"

Mimi stared at her knees (which was quite a feat). "I was still working on that," she grumbled.

Joanne clicked her tongue in distaste. "Why didn't you just tell us?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

She snorted. "Well, _that_ worked well."

Mimi chuckled a bit.

"So, shall we go back to the loft and get Roger before your next appointment?"

Mimi's eyes widened, and she shook her head frantically. "No."

There was understanding in Joanne's eyes as she said, "It's not his baby, is it?"

"No, he's Roger's," she said. "This just… isn't how I wanted him to find out."

"And how was that?"

Mimi didn't answer.

Joanne sighed. "Fine. We'll take you to this Dr. Donaldson. And then that's it. We're done. You aren't going to get out of telling anyone about this."

She glared at her but didn't protest, and Joanne drove out of the parking lot and towards Dr. Donaldson's office.

It was a good thing they hadn't stopped, for it took them nearly an hour to reach Dr. Donaldson's suburban office, and they were nearly late.

Dr. Donaldson was a brunette that looked to be in her mid-thirties. She smiled at Mimi.

"My brother told me to expect a surprise patient. You must be Mimi Marquez. Come right on back."

"I'll be out here," Joanne said to her, and Mimi was ushered away by the doctor.

Most of the exam passed by in a blur. The only details said by Dr. Donaldson that registered were, "You'll have less chance of your baby contracting HIV if you get a C-section," and, "You were lucky. Your baby appears to be free of any sort of effects from your drug use."

There was one part of that afternoon that registered in Mimi's long-term memory, and that was seeing her baby for the first time. He was curled up, distinctly human-looking, and-in her eyes- absolutely adorable.

"And you see that?" asked the doctor, pointing to a spot on the screen. "You know what that is. You've got a little boy on the way, Mimi."

Her brown eyes glowed.

* * *

She clutched the printed pictures of her baby in an envelope as she walked up the stairs to the loft. Even though Collins and Mark were the only two residents, you were almost guaranteed to find everyone in there anytime between eleven AM and midnight. As she opened the door, Roger's arms were immediately around her, pulling her into him.

Smiling, Mimi wrapped her arms around him, still clutching the envelope in one hand. "everything's going to be all right," she said to him, sounding more like herself than she had in months. As if to agree with her, the baby kicked.

Roger felt that little kick as if it was an electric shock, and he reacted the way he would to one. He pulled quickly away, staring at Mimi's stomach as he did. He looked, much to Mimi's astonishment, relieved.

She laughed lightly as Roger pulled her into an even tighter embrace and kissed her full on the mouth. "I have pictures," she said as soon as she pulled her lips away from his. She waved the envelope tantalizingly in front of his nose before breaking away and walking towards the couch, which she collapsed onto dramatically. She began to peel open the envelope. "Want to see?" she asked, directing the question towards everyone.

They all stared at her, puzzled.

To clarify her meaning, Mimi folded her hands onto her stomach. Noticing this, the baby kicked at her fingertips, and she had to fight back a giggle.

Slowly, confusion turned into delight. Maureen was the first to squeal out, "Yes!"

Roger walked over to her, looking dazed, and nodded his agreement.

Grinning broadly, Mimi opened her envelope and pulled out the pictures. Everyone "oohed" and "aahed" appropriately as she flicked through them.

However, behind Roger and Joanne's smiles was a look of worry that could only be seen as reasonable, given the entirity of the situation. Mimi was talking about a baby like it was a trivial Christmas present, without thinking of all the _things_ she would need for him.

It was Joanne that actually voiced the concerns. "Mimi, have you thought about everything that a baby entails? There are all sorts of… supplies that you're going to need. You're going to need a crib, bedding, formula…"

Mimi bit her lip as Joanne continued her list. She knew that Joanne's worrying was justified, and it echoed some of her own concerns. "Joanne," she said, interrupting the woman's list. "I know that this is going to be hard. I never thought it was going to be easy. But…" her warm brown eyes met Joanne's. "I can't give him up."

Everyone looked around, uneasy by the argument that was clearly beginning to brew under the surface. Mimi met each pair of eyes, one at a time, and saw that they all agreed with Joanne. Even Roger, no matter how happy he was that they were having a baby, thought that it was impossible for them to raise him. Her eyes narrowed, and she muttered, "I've got to go," before heading downstairs to her own apartment (if you could really call it that…).

When she opened the door and walked into her apartment, the phone began to ring. Out of habit, she answered right away. "Hello?"

"Is this Mimi Marquez?"

She didn't recognize the voice; all she knew was that it was a young woman. "Yeah."

"This is Rachel, from Dr. Florence's office. Your bloodwork has just come in."

Mimi had no idea what this meant.

"Your T-cells are dangerously low."

Mimi understood _that_ right away. If there was any medical terminology she understood, it was related to her immune system. "I have AIDS," she murmured.

Rachel's voice was hushed as she replied, "Yes. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," said Mimi curtly. "It's no one's fault but my own." And she hung up the phone and collapsed onto the couch.

She supposed that she should have expected as much, after spending several winter weeks living outdoors (why had she ever done that?). Even though she had expected it, it was no less of a blow. It was official; she was nearing the end. All of that flirtation was going to end soon, and she would have to succumb to death's call. She blinked moisture out of her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

When Roger walked into the room, Mimi was still in the exact same exact position: sitting on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He said nothing. He just sat beside her, wrapped his arm around her, and waited for the moisture to finally start streaming down her cheeks.

* * *

She made sure to tell everyone right away, to warn them that she didn't have much longer left. Joanne helped her write up her will and get everything in order, from her physical belongings to who would get custody of the baby. Everything went to Roger.

It was August 22, and Mimi was more huge than ever.

"I feel like a balloon," she grumbled, staring at her overly large stomach.

"Hey, in a few weeks, you'll be sexy again," said Maureen cheerfully.

"Yeah," said Mimi angrily. "And then I'll have dark circles under my eyes, because _he's_-" she glared at her stomach "-going to be keeping me up all night."

Roger laughed and wrapped his arm around her. "It won't be just you, Meems. If he keeps you up, he'll keep me up."

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. You could sleep through a tidal wave without stirring. You'd just wake up soaked wondering what had happened."

Everyone laughed at that. Amidst her laughter, Mimi felt a sharp pain in her abdomen that lasted for a few seconds, but she thought nothing of it. Minor aches and pains were becoming a part of her life.

"I could not! You would wake me up," Roger argued.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and by the time I managed it, the whole thing would be over, and our bed would be floating around in the floodwaters."

"She's got a point," Collins said. Roger glared at him.

"I know I do," she replied smugly.

Another glare, this time directed at Mimi. She grinned playfully at him and stuck her tongue out. As she did so, there was another sharp twinge of pain, and her smile faltered for a moment.

Naturally, Roger noticed. "Meems? Is something wrong?"

The throbbing was over as quickly as it began. "No. I'm just fine."

It was clear that he didn't believe her.

"No, really," she said, "I'm fine." No sooner had she said it than the pain stabbed at her again, causing her to wince.

What was going on? She was used to pain, but not this close together, and certainly not this bad.

"Mimi…"

There was warm moisture between her legs as another wave of pain coursed through her. "Roger!" she managed to croak.

Everyone was scrambling to do something. Mark and Collins made a makeshift chair out of their arms, and Roger lifted Mimi into it. Joanne grabbed her purse and ran ahead of the group to get her car. Maureen- left without something useful to do- simply barked orders at everyone.

From there on out, it was all a blur. She could only remember certain things: a lot of people asking if she was okay, being placed in a wheelchair and wheeled away from her friends, and being told that her baby had the best chance of not getting sick if they gave her a C-section. Between bouts of pain, Mimi managed to tell the nurses to cut her open if that was what it took to keep her baby healthy.

Shortly thereafter, the stabs of pain were muffled, and a sheet was rigged to the hospital bed that she was surprised to find herself in. It blocked her view of everything below her ribcage. Her breathing slowly evened out as several doctors bent over the part she couldn't see. Everything was too bright and unfocused. Everything, that is, except for one thing that stood out over all the chaos.

Mimi had no idea how long it had been since she'd arrived in that hospital room, and she didn't really care. The only thing she cared about was the small red thing that the doctor lifted up over the sheet for her to see.

He was still attached to her; a cord led from his stomach to behind the sheet. His limbs were small and spindly-looking, and they thrashed about as shrieks came from his open mouth. Her eyes softened at the sight of him, and the word "Angelo" escaped her lips before she sank back into the pillow.

Blackout.

Mimi's eyes opened again, but this time, she was surrounded by people that her weary eyes couldn't identify. A tube stuck out of the back of her hand, and she groaned at the sight of it. "I hate IVs."

"Well, at least we know it's working, then," came Roger's voice, and her head snapped towards the sound's source.

"Roger," she said to him, her voice flooded with more affection than she had thought possible. "Roger, we're okay."

"We certainly are," he said, beaming widely. As Mimi's eyes focused more, she saw the small blue bundle that he held.

Her eyes lit up as if she were a child on Christmas morning.

Roger laughed at the sight, and he laid the bundle in her limp arms.

Wonder crossed her features as she stared at the face in the middle of the blankets. The little face was the color of very creamy coffee, and a pair of wide brown eyes sat in the dead center of it. Her eyes, she knew. A dusting of fine brown curls covered his head. There was something of Roger in the shape of his face and the way that he stared at everything so seriously.

"Angelo," she whispered to him, a smile crossing her face. He was hers. Nothing could take him away now. She brought him to her face and kissed his warm forehead. He smelled clean and new, like a newborn should. "Él es perfecto," she murmured in Spanish as she sank into the pillows. She managed to yank her eyes away from the baby and towards the other occupants of the room.

Maureen grinned at her. "Yeah, we sort of figured that out by now," she said. "He was tested, by the way, and it came back negative."

A sigh of relief escaped Mimi's lips; her baby was healthy. He wasn't sick. He would be able to live a normal, healthy life. She could've sung an aria and tap danced as she did so.

However, there was unmistakeable worry etched into everyone's faces. "What's the problem?" she demanded, feeling more and more like herself with every minute. "Angelo's going to be okay."

"Mimi… you had a hard time with the surgery. The staff was all as careful as possible, but you've been out for twelve hours." It was Collins doing the explaining for a change, and it startled her.

"So? A whole bunch of people don't go under well." Mimi had never dealt well with anesthetics; even novacaine made her much groggier than it should've. She supposed that she should've told the nurses that, but everything had just been so chaotic…

"A whole bunch of people don't have AIDS," Roger reminded gently.

Mimi tightened her grip on Angelo. "So? I'm not sick. I feel fine. Fit as a fiddle." To prove it, she started to sit up. However, she was horrified to find that her body was too weak for even that, and she sank back into the pillows.

Roger took Angelo out of her arms, but she glared death at him, and he gave her the baby back.

She hugged him closely. "So how long do I have?" Her voice was a whisper, full of forboding.

Roger's mask cracked a bit as he responded, "They don't know."

Mimi stared straight ahead, trying to comprehend it all. It was impossible. She had come so far, only to lose it all now. It just wasn't fair.

There was unmistakable anger in her eyes as she said, "What the hell is wrong with me, then?"

"They aren't sure," Joanne said. "All they know is you've been unconcious and running a fever." Even as she finished, Mimi could tell that this wasn't the whole story.

Mimi wanted to scream. They _had_ to know what was wrong. They had known what Angel had; why was she any different? She was about to say something else when a nurse walked into the room.

She smiled at Mimi. "Glad to see you awake, Miss Marquez," she said as she walked over to the bed and held out her arms.

Mimi stared at the nurse, completely nonplussed.

"He needs feeding, Miss Marquez."

"I can feed him just as well as you can," she snapped.

The nurse sighed and turned away. "Very well. I'll bring you his bottle." She left the room, only to be replaced by a doctor.

"Ah, the patient is awake! We thought we'd lost you." The doctor's face seemed to be comprised of wrinkles, and his head was completely hairless.

"Yeah, I'm awake," she grumbled. "But what's in this IV? I don't ever remember being this groggy."

"It's the medication we're giving you. Hopefully it will work and your immune system will stop trying to attack you."

"Attack me?" she said, alarm raising her voice an octave. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The doctor's focus turned to Roger, who had moved aside. "You didn't tell her?"

"Tell me what?" she snarled.

"We felt it would be best if you explained," said Collins, answering for Roger.

"Tell me _what_?" Mimi repeated, sounding truly dangerous now.

"You lost a lot of blood in surgery, Miss Marquez," said the doctor. "We had to give you a transfusion. However, your body is rejecting it, and your immune system is trying to kill off the new blood." The man's composure faltered for a moment. "The extent of your HIV has caused your immune system to think that all of your blood is bad blood."

Mimi felt nauseous. "Basically, my body's eating me from the inside out?"

The doctor nodded. "I'm terribly sorry. There's nothing we can do but give you painkillers and try to make everything as comfortable for you as possible."

The nurse returned, holding a bottle. Seeing Mimi's obvious distress, she said, "If you need, I can feed him."

Mimi shook her head. "This may be my only chance," she murmured.

The nurse nodded sadly and handed Mimi the bottle. Gently, Mimi raised the bottle and eased it into Angelo's mouth. He drank eagerly, sucking as much of the formula out in one gulp as he could.

Mimi laughed, though the sound came out like a hiccup. "He even eats like you, Roger," she said. Everyone laughed uneasily.

The doctor and nurse both left, the nurse giving Roger's shoulder a squeeze as she passed him.

Mimi's vision was clouded by salt water, but she held her hand on the bottle steady. She felt the warm wetness on her cheeks, but didn't move to wipe it away. It wasn't until the sucking noises stopped that she moved at all. She removed the bottle from Angelo's mouth and looked about imploringly. "Will someone burp him for me?"

Maureen immediately rose and took him in her arms, pulling the blankets off of him as she did so. He was dressed in a little blue onesie, and she paced around the room as she held him on her shoulder and patted his back.

"Roger," Mimi said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?"

"If it gets to the point where… I'm only alive because of a machine, I want you to…" She burst into tears before she could finish.

Roger slid into the hospital bed beside her, taking her into his arms and letting her sob into his chest. He was barely managing to hold his own grief back.

"Just let me go," she managed to finish. She clutched him tightly.

At this point, Angelo had burped his little baby burp, but Maureen didn't hand him back right away. Mimi needed time, she realized, to just be Mimi- young, afraid, and grieving.

* * *

Two weeks later, Mimi was unable to swallow on her own. Then she lost her ability to breathe. Within twenty days, a machine was the only thing keeping her heart beating the tainted blood through her veins.

Mimi Marquez had no healthy white blood cells left. Each and every one of them was contaminated by her virus. And it was at this point that Roger fulfilled Mimi's last request.

_Mimi Marquez: September 17, 1970-September 11, 1991_


End file.
